


Gone But Not Forgotten

by Ginger_Ninja_405



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, Assassin's Creed Movie - Fandom
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Loneliness, Post-Film, Romance, Smut, dead boyfriends that aren't actually dead, mild choking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-09-01 07:53:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16761067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ginger_Ninja_405/pseuds/Ginger_Ninja_405
Summary: Callum has finally completed his current duties for the Creed, and has returned home to the life he left behind upon his imprisonment, specifically the girlfriend he had to abandon - who is still under the impression that he is dead, and whose life and heart have basically fallen apart without him.





	Gone But Not Forgotten

**Author's Note:**

> So I started writing this...many months ago, and had intended to finish it much sooner, but life gets in the way. Part of this has been on tumblr since early this year, but I decided to post the whole thing as a one-shot here. Callum doesn't get near enough love and attention in the world of fandom, so here's a little angst and eventual happiness for him :3 I hope you enjoy!
> 
> ((gif belongs to @haedall on tumblr))

Callum sat in silence at a table in the farthest corner of the small diner, hood of his civilian jacket pulled over his head to hide his face. She hadn't noticed him yet, and he wanted to keep it that way for now. He watched as the young woman, his girlfriend pre-execution, walked from table to table, dispensing soft drinks and food, and taking meal orders. He hadn't been in contact with her since before his 'death', and to her knowledge, he was dead and gone. Although he could have no way of knowing for sure, she'd probably even attended his funeral. He doubted she'd had much company at the service. She had been one of the very few people he'd allowed into his life in the past few years, and in his absence, she'd apparently suffered losses outside of himself. He recalled the retail management position she'd held, not exactly the highest paying job but enough to pay an equal share of the bills and rent alongside his contribution. Somewhere between his imprisonment and now, she'd apparently left that job and had been reduced to waitressing, not that there was anything wrong with that, but it had apparently caused her to step down from their shared house to a studio apartment in a neighborhood he wasn't exactly happy about. He ducked his head as she stepped near him, knowing it was not her table, but asking if he'd like his coffee refreshed anyway. He kept his face low and hidden, and shook his head no.

Anya lingered for a few seconds, looking over his hands that seemed strangely familiar, but left moments later, shaking her head of her painful thoughts. Those hands might look like her lover's, but they obviously weren't his. Callum, so far as she knew, was dead. He had been for several months. She made a conscious decision to avoid that table until after its occupant left. She didn't need more reminders. With a last glance back at the table at the hooded figure, she disappeared into the kitchen and out the back door, taking her break early so she could gather herself and calm down. Who would have thought that a pair of hands could upset her so much? She'd held it together pretty well for the last few months, though she'd been a mess after the execution, but when her memories decided to scratch at the thin barrier of her emotional wall, the slightest thing could set her off and cripple her. She'd loved him so much, he'd been her damned world. Callum hadn't been perfect, but he'd always been kind to and protective of her. When police officers had shown up at their door to take him away...she hadn't been the same since that day.

She recalled, as she sat on the cement steps behind the restaurant, visiting him as often as she was able while he was incarcerated. He'd told her every time, without fail, that he hated for her to see him like this in such a place and that she'd be better off moving on. He of course didn't want her to abandon him as he'd practically done to her in the moment when he'd killed that nameless pimp, but he couldn't voice his selfishness. Her well-being far outweighed his happiness, he'd even forbade her from attending his execution. She'd cried herself to sleep that night, and the many nights that preceded and followed it. She hadn't done that for months, though she feared she might slip back into that pattern tonight. The sight of the stranger had just been too much. It obviously wasn't him, but something about him...she brushed away the tears that had begun to sting her cheeks, and glanced down at her phone. No new texts or calls, and it was past time to return to her tables inside. She stood, wiping away any remnants of her tears from her face, straightening out her uniform, and stepped back inside, glancing over to the now-empty table in the corner before rushing around to her tables to take care of her customers.

* * *

Anya glanced over to the farthest seating of the diner toward the man in the unremarkable hooded jacket. She'd yet to see his face, partly because she avoided looking his way whenever possible, but this was the forth time he'd been in the restaurant in as many days. All he ever ordered was coffee, and he seemed to always be careful to sit in the same area and keep his face obscured. Even though he hid his face, she couldn't help the feeling of him constantly watching her whenever he was present during her shifts. She'd even considered confronting him, but without reason outside of her overactive imagination, that seemed like asking for trouble.

Callum stared down at his black coffee as he kept a careful distance, glancing up occasionally when he saw that her back was turned. He wasn't completely sure himself why he hadn't made contact yet, why he continued to practically stalk her. It would be so easy just to push his hood back and catch her gaze as she walked by, or to simply knock on the door of her modest studio apartment after she'd gone home for the evening. He'd reasoned that his hesitation stemmed from fear of what her reaction might be, but he wasn't sure what he was most anxious about. The thought that she would hate him for letting her believe him dead for so long was high on the list, the idea that she had only stayed with him during his imprisonment for moral support and that she'd long ago stopped loving him was another. He had no real reason to think she may have lied to him, but after everything he'd put her through with his split-second decision to take a human life, even a valueless one, he knew she didn't owe him anything. He had been the one to destroy whatever future they might have been destined for. She had every right and reason to never want to see him again, and it almost struck him as cruel to re-enter her life, knowing that he could have to desert her again at a moment's notice for the Creed.

Callum looked up from his coffee and his thoughts as the sound of a ruckus from the other side of the room caught his attention. He was on his feet instantly when he saw his abandoned lover being harassed by a customer, the repugnant man's hand gripping her wrist and reaching for the bottom hem of her skirt. Everyone around them just sat in silence, looking away uncomfortably and pretending nothing was happening, and Callum immediately abandoned his coffee when the young woman's failed attempt to unlatch the man's hand drove her to retaliate she only way she could think of in the moment, grabbing the nearest beverage and tossing the liquid in the man's face. She managed to get free as the man's hands went to his face, raising his voice and reaching out again blindly to grab at her in frustration. Before Callum could even consider what he was doing, he found his hand on the side of the man's face, which he had just slammed into the table. The customer let out a yelp, and tried to scramble away, but Callum was too quick, and his other hand was at the man's own wrist in a second, bringing it up behind the man's back and causing him to groan in pain. The assassin leaned down toward the man's ear, and growled in a low voice for him to leave all his cash on the table and get out. The restrained customer's friends scrambled to their feet as his free hand reached uncomfortably toward his wallet to fumble through it and pull out various currency, dropping it on the table and nearly collapsing to the floor when Callum finally released him. He didn't even look back as he nearly ran out of the diner after his cowardly friends.

Anya couldn't even bring herself to move from her position several feet from the table, empty glass still clutched in her hand. Through the scuffle, her savior's face had managed to stay hidden, but the way he moved with such efficient effort and strength seemed too familiar. It took every bit of her willpower not to stalk toward him and shove that damned hood back to see his face, but the fear of what she'd see kept her where she was. It wasn't him. Her boyfriend was dead. He was gone, and he couldn't exactly defend her virtue from beyond the grave. Without another word, Callum dug into his pocket and pulled out a few dollars for his coffee, and walked out of the restaurant entrance himself, not stopping for a moment to turn back. He couldn't stay away any more, but he couldn't reveal himself here. She was probably traumatized enough, she didn't need this too. Not now. _Tonight_ , he told himself as he continued to stride down the street, never allowing himself to look back toward the diner, and missing the young woman standing just outside of the entrance of the establishment, watching him as he walked away. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Anya cursed the sky as she trudged through the water that collected on the sidewalk, heavy rain pelting her umbrella from overhead. It was nearly midnight and she just wanted to get home, out of her wet clothes and into her inviting bed – about the only furniture she'd been able to take with her after selling everything else to make ends meet. Although she'd escaped reprimand regarding the incident with the unruly customers, she'd felt as if she were in a fog for the rest of the day, making mistakes and drifting in and out of a daze. She hadn't been able to push the violent event, and the stranger that had come to her aide, from her mind. If he came into the restaurant again, she'd have to confront him. She couldn't just be imagining the attention she felt he paid her, not after today. She had to see his face. She needed hard proof right in front of her eyes, a reality check that this was not Callum watching her while he kept his distance.

She breathed a sigh of relief as she turned a corner and found her apartment complex in sight, her unit in full view from the street. With renewed conviction, she began to make quicker strides, nearly at a run by the time she reached the stairs that led up to her front door. She darted up the steps, hand fumbling in her soaked purse for her key, slipping it into her door and stepping inside. She didn't even bother to compress her umbrella, dumping it and her purse to the floor by her door, shoes quickly following. She stripped off her damp socks, and began to fumble with the zipper at the back of her uniform when she heard the slightest sound from the wall across from her bed. Anya whirled around on her heel, slipping in the puddles gathered on her hardwood floor, and fell back on her ass as she watched a figure from across the room stand from his seated position. She started to scoot away, reaching for her purse and pulling out the stun-gun she'd bought herself after one too many walks home alone at night. The man stayed where he was, just watching her from the shadows when she pressed the button and a crackling sound and light of warning erupted from the small device. “Stay back!” she called out, finding her footing and raising up to stand, clutching her weapon tightly. The man lifted his hands up by the sides of his head in silent surrender. Anya stepped slowly backward, away from her discarded belongings, and flipped the light switch when she finally found it on the wall, not taking her eyes off the figure the whole time. She'd half-expected to find the hands-y man who had tried to grab her at the restaurant, but was surprised to find the hooded man instead. Even with his face obscured, his head still hung low, almost seeming ashamed.

Anya lowered the electrified device in her hand a little, staring at the man who'd protected her. “I want to see your face,” she finally managed, the anger in her voice subsiding. The man opposite her began to lower his hands, one coming to the hem of his hood, but hesitating. She was about to demand of him again, but he finally tucked his fingers into the fabric and pulled the hood slowly back over his head. He continued to stare at the floor, but Anya didn't need to see his eyes to recognize him. The weapon slipped out of her hand and toppled to the floor, her whole body going weak, and she found herself sliding down to the floor, back pressed to the wall behind her. She stared with shocked eyes at her lover. The lover that was supposed to be dead. The lover who was supposed to have died via lethal injection months ago. Her hand came up to cover her mouth as he finally lifted his face and met her gaze with his pale blue eyes. He began to step toward her, but stopped when he noticed her head shaking slightly from side to side, pressing back into the wall to keep distance between them. He took a step back, and felt his chest tighten when she finally spoke again, “Are you a ghost? Are you torturing me? You're not...” her voice stalled as tears started to run down her cheeks, “...you're not real.”

Callum's lips parted to speak, but when no sound came out, he closed them again. He began to take slow, careful steps toward her again until he was a foot away, dropping to his haunches when she brought her knees to her chest and hid her face between them. She tensed when she felt his fingers brush her damp hair behind her ear, and she lifted her head up a little to stare into the crystal blue eyes that peered back at her. He brushed a hand over her cheek and lifted her chin up, settling his weight on his knees and descending toward her face, pressing his lips carefully to her trembling ones. They tasted salty from her tears.

* * *

Callum shifted in bed with a groan as he slept, unaccustomed to the soft mattress below him after so much time spent sleeping on far less comfortable surfaces. After a long, mostly one-sided conversation they'd laid down together in the comfort of Anya's bed, and he'd fallen asleep almost immediately. Anya hadn't been able to sleep at all. She wouldn't let herself. Her mind wouldn't stop, with the shock of discovering her supposedly dead boyfriend alive, and everything he had shared with her about his recent experiences with Abstergo Foundation and the Animus and his past life...it was just so, so much. An assassin...her lover was the descendant of, and apparently currently, an assassin. If she hadn't attended his funeral herself, she might not have believed anything he had to say to her.

Anya looked down to the man before her, both of them lying on their sides, facing toward each other, with Callum's face nestled against her chest. He used to fall asleep this way all the time, drifting off to the rhythm of her heartbeat, and even with all the shocking information he'd dropped on her, with him curled up so close to her in such an uncharacteristically vulnerable state, he felt like home to her. He shifted again as she began to run her fingers gently through his slightly shaggy hair, due for a trim...she imagined he didn't take much time out of his life anymore for things like his own vanity. There was easily a week's worth of whiskers covering the lower half of his face, and it tickled her sensitive skin when he pressed even closer to her. She flinched a little when she felt the arms wrapped about her waist tighten and the short, rough hairs of his face tickled her more as Callum lifted his face to peer up at her through sleepy blue eyes. “I'm surprised you're awake,” he mumbled, pressing a light kiss to her chest before dragging his body further up the bed so they were face to face, and encouraging her with his hands to lie on her other side so that her back pressed to his chest.

He dragged his fingers through her bed-mussed hair and leaned in to breathe in the scent of her shampoo as she pressed herself more flush to his larger body. “I was afraid I was already dreaming,” she answered back in a quiet voice, enjoying the feeling of the tall form behind her nuzzling his face against her hair and neck. “I thought if I closed my eyes for too long, I'd open them and find you gone again.”

“I'm sorry,” he whispered against her nape, hiding. As much as he wanted to look upon her, he was filled with so much shame from leaving her alone for so long, it was difficult to face her. He'd spent so much of his life hardening himself to others...but she made all of that fall away. She was his refuge from everything else. He knew he didn't deserve her, and he knew he could never let her go. “I don't think I've slept that well since before...well, before I had to leave.”

She turned her head a little to look at him, and he greeted her with a soft kiss, the spiky little hairs around his lips making her squirm away from him with a giggle. Callum drew her even closer, dragging his chin lightly over her throat to get another reaction. She reached behind them both and started grasping at his secretly ticklish side in retaliation, and he grasped her hand and held it above her head, shifting them both so that she lie face down on the bed, his body holding hers down. “I think you've managed to get even skinnier,” she mumbled against the pillow, interweaving her fingers with his.

“Prison food,” he answered back, stroking the side of one of her hands with his thumb, “it's even worse than you're cooking.” His lips took on a rare grin as she started to thrash under him, trying to buck against him as he pressed his weight into her even more.

“You think you're so damned funny, don't...”, her words were cut off when she felt something she hadn't felt in a long time press against her lower back.

Callum released one of her hands and swept his own down her side to wrap his arm carefully around her waist, dipping his face back into her mildly fragrant hair. “It's been a long time,” he whispered as he leaned over to her ear to press teasing kisses along the shell of it and down to the little dip behind the lobe that he knew made her weak. Sure enough, a sound between a sigh and a whimper poured from her lips and she lifted her hips to grind herself against the sizable length pressed against her. Callum's lips began to descend down the side of her neck, leaving a wake of damp kisses that had the body beneath him practically melting against him. Anya's grip on his hand just above her head tightened as her other slid down toward his, splayed against her stomach, and gently separated it from the bare skin to help direct it lower, where she really needed it. The assassin let out a barely audible groan as his fingers were guided under the lacy edge of her panties, grazing over the soft hair beneath, and sliding lower toward the heat that radiated between her thighs. “Already?” he asked as his digits were met with slick and sensitive flesh, grinding himself against her ass as he ghosted over her clit and slid lower to press two fingers inside.

Anya let out a disappointed whimper as Callum drew his fingers out of her and began to lift his body off of hers, only to find herself flipped over, finding herself facing the ceiling, with her lover below her, her back to his torso, his back pressed into the comfort of her mattress. He took the hand not exposed to her dampness and placed it carefully over her throat, her head falling to one side to listen to the thumping of his heart, her hair tickling his chest, and his other hand slid back down her stomach to reclaim what they both knew belonged to him. He nudged at the fabric and she took the initiative, lifting her hips just enough to shove her panties down her thighs, and Callum's fingers were against her again, rough and calloused and probing and filling her. “Have you shared this with anyone else,” his voice filled her ears, low and a little raspy, his thumb lifting to rub barely there circles over her needy little bundle of nerves. 

“Of course not,” she gasped, one of her hands coming up to grip his hair as her other descended to wrap over his and encourage him to press even deeper inside. Her hips jerked as his fingers curled inside her and began to work at the spongy flesh of her upper wall.

“Do you still love me?” he groaned back, feeling himself becoming harder by the second as she continued to grind against him, his hand at her neck guiding her to face the ceiling, his fingers wrapping around her throat and applying just enough pressure to make her voice raspy too.

“Always,” came her whimper as her hands scrambled, not for the fingers at her throat, but between her legs, grinding against those delicious digits and trying to guide them impossibly deeper inside her. Just as Callum felt his boxer-briefs becoming unbearable tight, the whimpers and gasps above him evolved into screams as he felt soaking wet flesh and muscles pulse and clench around his fingers, felt her become so slick as his Anya came for him. She'd barely had a moment to come back down to earth when she felt her body being moved for her again, her hips being lifted from the bed as Callum settled behind her. Anya struggled to lift her weight off the bed, up to her elbows and knees, and watched over her shoulder as her lover stripped himself of his underthings and looked back to her to meet her gaze. Neither looked away from the other as the assassin moved closer, lining his hips up against her, groaning when the slick proof of her ecstasy damped his ready and needy cock, drawing back just enough to break contact, and finally, staring into her lovely eyes, slipping inside.

“Fuck...” was all he could manage to say as he sunk himself to the hilt inside, so welcoming and soft, and if he hadn't felt like he was home up to that point, he was certainly there now. When he felt the body below him begin to writhe under him, he realized that he'd yet to move, and he drug his hips back just a few inches before pressing back as deep as he could. He almost didn't want to move, he just wanted to stay like this, so deep and connected, so close to her. Almost.

“Callum,” came a soft voice, and he leaned his body into her to rub his scruffy cheek against her shoulder and the side of her neck. She began to whisper his name again, sounding a little frustrated, when he drew back nearly all the way and snapped his hips hard against her, making the bed shake and smack against the wall. Much to her relief, he finally started moving without the frustrating little pauses, his mouth finding her throat, kissing and suckling at all the places he knew turned her to mush. It had been so damned long, she felt so fucking good...and damned if he wasn't already getting close. He cursed again, irritated with himself for bringing such low stamina into their lovemaking when he hadn't touched her in so long, but as if she'd read his mind, he found one of her hands reaching back to grip his hip, his ass, guiding him to fuck her harder. “Please,” came her muffled voice as he sucked harder at her throat, “please, I want you to come for me, baby. You don't have to prove anything to me, just come for me.”

Callum let out a rough groan as he snapped his hips a final time, his eyes squeezed shut so tight, his fingers clawing into the bed as he filled her with everything he had.

“Sorry,” he finally mumbled after a few minutes, all of his body weight pressed upon her, unable to will himself to move.

“That's enough 'sorry's from you tonight,” Anya whispered back, finally relaxed enough to feel sleep creeping up on her. “I missed you too.”

* * *

The room was silent when Anya began to wake the next morning, the only sound she immediately picked up coming from chirpy little birds outside. She'd woken up facing the wall, and as the memories of the night before flowed back into her mind, she felt fear. He was gone. She'd turn over and he'd be gone. The whole event had been a dream, she must have passed out when she'd gotten home and dreamed-

“Are you hungry,” came a drowsy whisper behind her, an unsteady hand appearing from the same direction to wrap around her waist and drag her onto her back so he could see her face. Callum looked into surprised eyes, and he immediately brought a finger up to wipe away the beginning of tears that started to gather. “No more of that,” he whispered, taking a firmer hold on her and dragging her to lay half on top of him, her face finding home between his throat and shoulder. “I'm not going to disappear again. You can't get rid of me that easy twice.”

They both knew it wasn't going to be easy, that he would occasionally have to fulfill his assassin duties, but he promised he'd always return to her. And he always did.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! As always, kudos and/or comments are very much appreciated!
> 
> I have several other Fassy-character stories here too, if you'd like to check them out!


End file.
